2 Seconds Ago Near Lucifer's Cage
by fenrirs
Summary: The wifi in Hell is surprisingly fast. Sam and Dean didn't even know Adam was still alive down there.
1. Chapter 1

"Dean. Dean, come here, look at this."

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean leant over the table, beer in one hand, eying the computer screen with interest. "You got another lead on that possible werewolf attack?"

"No—Well, I was looking for one. I made a Facebook account—"

"Facebook?"

"Yeah, you know, for keeping in touch with old friends."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"I hope you didn't create it under you own name," said Castiel, from across the room where he was currently wrestling with a can of soda. Lacking his angelic powers, he was finding even the smallest of physical tasks a strain. "Remember, the only reason you aren't wanted for murder and armed robbery is because your authorities assume you are dead."

Sam gave him a look. "Anyway. I thought it might be useful to check up on what the vic was doing the night of the attack – you can't do that without making one of these – and look." He pointed to the corner of the screen.

"Suggested friends: Adam Milligan?" Dean read aloud. He and Sam looked to each other. Sam gave an apologetic shrug. "So what?" said Dean, waving a hand and turning to leave. "He must've signed up for the website before any of this happened. We should probably just ignore it. You know, it might not even be him."

He felt guilty. Sam knew. He felt the same; Sam had been the one who dragged him down to the Pit, but Dean had been the reason he was there in the first place.

"We can't ignore this, Dean."

"Oh yeah? And why not, huh?"

"Because his account is still active." Sam clicked on the name, and up popped a profile. There he was, their other brother, smiling out at them from the screen. But beneath the picture, he'd been posting. "_Help me, please. If anyone is reading this, I need your help_," Sam read, clenching his jaw.

"Let me see that." Dean was by his side again, peering at the screen. "What kind off asshat writes something like that, anyway?" he snarled.

"What?"

"It's obviously not him, Sammy. It can't be him. Sam – he's _dead_."

"Since when does dead mean dead for us?" said Sam. "We have another chance to save him, Dean!"

"No, this is some joker messing around. Get off of the internet anyway, why don't you? We have work to do. Look at what they've written below: _Not loving Michael right now. Shame I was stuck with him instead of Lucifer. Now there's one sexy_—OK, well, you can read it for yourself."

"Yeah, but look at where it's posted from." Sam pointed his finger at the screen, to where it read, in tiny grey letters, _3 days ago near Lucifer's Cage_. "Dean."

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed, and grit his teeth. "Guess we got work to do."

/

Down below, Adam was more frustrated than anything else. He'd only ever imagined what Hell would be like, and he thought it would be more like hooks in the flesh, and fire. This was... different. But then, this wasn't really Hell; it was sort of like the Vatican City of Hell.

It was more of a dungeon than a cage, and sometimes he heard the screams of the tortured souls far beyond the walls, but they never came close. All he had here was himself – no day or night, no concept of time, and nothing to eat or drink. Oh, and Michael and Lucifer were there, too, and they were both pretty pissed at him.

They seemed to have reverted to their former vessels (or, at least, that was how he understood it, he thought, because in reality he was just a soul, and a soul didn't have a body and it couldn't use the internet, could it?)(And why was there wifi in Hell, come to think of it?). And they kept taking his phone from him.

"You do not need that," Michael had told him, in John Winchester's voice, taking it from him. "We failed in our mission, don't you understand? This is our punishment."

"No, no, lemme see that, lemme see." Lucifer had snatched it from him.

It hadn't been so bad when they'd just been toying with it, back and forth, back and forth. Adam had tried to get it back at first (it was like a diabolical game of piggy-in-the-middle), but he soon gave up. Pseudo-Hell, he decided, was torture in the form of exquisite frustration.

But then they'd figured out how to work it, and now he was watching the two angels wrestle each other over it, which would have been amusing if he wasn't going to be stuck with them for all of eternity.

"Lucifer, give it _back_—" (he was sitting on Michael's chest and pinning him down) "—it isn't _yours_."

"Yeah, yeah, in a second."

"What are you doing with it?" Michael's arms were flailing trying to get a hold of it. Lucifer held it beyond his reach.

"Sa-_tan_," he enunciated, typing with painful slowness, "_rules_."

"You know, this is the sort of thing that got you cast out of Heaven in the first place."

"Dear God." Adam buried his head in his hands, muttering. "Sam, Dean, anyone. If you're out there, _I've seen Hell_. And I want to go home."

* * *

_This was a silly idea I had earlier; I might continue with it, I don't know._


	2. Chapter 2

"Crowley?" said Sam.

"Crowley," Dean agreed.

They wouldn't have even considered, in the past, making a deal with Crowley, but since Sam had undertaken the trials to shut down Hell and attempted to cure him of his demonic ways, Crowley had been... _less_ than Crowley. He was still managing to cling onto his position as the King of Hell, but only by his fingernails – Abbadon was gathering followers in the rogue demons and it seemed that she would stop at nothing to snatch his title from him the first chance she got. But Crowley's heart (he seemed to have one now) wasn't really in it. He liked the power, but the trials had had some effect on him, and he was staying out of Sam and Dean's way, not causing any trouble.

"He's got to help us. I mean, he's practically human now," said Sam. "He's bound to have some level of empathy."

"I wouldn't go that far," said Dean. "More like twenty percent less douchebaggy. That's still a whole lot of douchebag."

"Yeah, but still, we're kinda on the same side, right?"

"Sure. But he's not going to make it straightforward. We've pissed him off too much. So when he hands us that contract, you better make damn sure you read every letter."

"Me?" said Sam.

"You _are_ a more proficient reader than your brother," piped up Castiel.

"Hey, shut up, Cas. You studied Law, right?"

"Pre-Law."

"Whatever. You make damn sure we're getting Adam back at the end of this, and we're all keepin' our souls. And... you can be the one to seal the deal."

"Of course I'm gonna—Aw, no, Dean, I'm not kissing Crowley!"

"Well, someone's gonna have to, and it's not gonna be me."

"I'll do it," sighed Castiel. Both the brothers looked to him. "What? I don't like him either, but... without my grace, I no longer have any way of getting into Hell without permission. Going through Crowley is the safest option we have. I understand that he is different now. He no longer wants any of us dead. It makes logical sense." Under their baffled stares, Castiel shrugged, and took a sip of the soda he had finally managed to open.

"...I guess that's it, then," said Sam, turning back to Dean, who looked at him. "We'll head over to wherever he's hiding out and just... ask him straight up, I guess."

"Great. We're workin' with Crowley," sighed Dean. "Fantastic. Love me some British half-demon freaks."

/

"Hello, boys."

Crowley was looking rather the worse for wear. He still hadn't recovered from his run-in with Sam in the church, and by the looks of things, he wasn't taking to humanity very well either. He was hiding out in a block of offices, from which he was ostensibly running his affairs. The demon Sam and Dean had summoned to take them to him was standing watch at the door.

"Why aren't you in Hell?" asked Dean.

"Manners," said Crowley, from behind his desk. "How are you, Your Highness; how have you been keeping since I kidnapped you and my brother _shot you full of his own blood_?" The last words were nearly a shout. "I'm afraid it's rather all-go there at the moment," he growled. "I've sentinels stationed at every possible entrance, but Abbadon is... tricky. And feisty. And I'm not about to put myself in her line of fire... Again." He looked pointedly at Sam.

"Hey, it was you called her up, not me," Sam said defensively.

"Let's not point fingers, Moose. What do want from me now?" Crowley asked with an air of resignation.

"OK, first thing..." Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket, "Yeah, we're gonna need the keys to Lucifer's Cage."

"Now, why would I want to give you those?"

"Second thing," said Dean, sliding the phone onto the table in front of Crowley, "why in the _hell_ is there _wifi_ in _Hell_?"

Crowley shrugged. "How do you expect me to keep up the with the news?"

"I–I'm sorry?" Dean blinked, tilting his head, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"My subjects aren't exactly masterful at presenting the human side of affairs," said Crowley. "You know, what with them being demons and all. Unlike me," he added, with a poisonous look at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you don't think it might be a bad idea to let the friggin' _Devil_ have access to the internet?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Facebook," said Sam. "Our brother, Adam, was trapped in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael, and they're gonna be torturing him – just like they tortured me – but he's been using Facebook. I mean, it's ridiculous. We didn't even know that there was any chance he was still—I mean, if we'd _known_, we would have tried—"

"Yeah, yeah, spare me your bleeding heart." Crowley waved a hand. "So your brother, trapped in the deepest pit of Hell – created by _God_, to house _Lucifer_ – has been begging for your help on _Facebook_?"

"Yes," said Sam.

"And you're more concerned about the fact that Hell has broadband-speed internet access because...?"

"Because Lucifer's been using his Facebook!" said Dean.

"Right. And you're worried about that because he might write things like..." Crowley looked at the phone Dean had placed in front of him. "Two seconds ago near Lucifer's Cage... _Now I know why they call him the Morning Star: Lucifer has a glorious coc_—"

"That's really not the issue here!" yelped Dean.

"Of course it's not. You just want to get your baby brother out of there. And you came to me."

"Please," said Sam. "Whatever empathy you have, Crowley—"

"Oh, save it, Moose." Crowley waved a hand. "I'll let you boys in, but you'll be pledging your souls to me if it should so happen that I somehow lose my privileged position as the king of this hell-hole."

"That's ridiculous," muttered Dean.

"That's insurance, Squirrel," said Crowley. "Now, pucker up."

* * *

_ Thanks for the reviews! :D_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was still trying to get the image of Castiel kissing Crowley out of his head as they were led along a long, white-walled corridor by a young, enthusiastic demon with curly hair, black eyes, and an official-looking suit. This was Hell, they had been told, but none of them were quite sure how they'd got there. All they knew was that there had been some sort of demonic ritual involved, and that they were to stick close by their guide at all times. Their guide was one of the few who actually knew, Crowley said, where the Cage was. His name was Beelzebub.

This wasn't like the Hell Dean remembered. He didn't even recognise it. He'd been preparing himself mentally for the flashbacks, but they didn't seem to be coming, which, all things considered, he supposed was a plus. He was more worried about Sam. He'd tried to convince him to stay behind ("Remember what happened last time you remembered the Cage?") but Sam wasn't having any of it. It was his fault, as far as he was concerned, that Adam was in there, and he wanted to be the one to pull him out.

This Hell was people waiting quietly in line, and the further they went down the corridor, the more corridors splintering off there seemed to be. Some of them had people lining up, others did not.

"It wasn't like this when I went in through Purgatory," said Sam.

"That was the basement," said Beelzebub. "We save that for, uh, special cases."

Neither Sam nor Dean needed to ask what 'special cases' meant. It was where Crowley had been keeping Bobby, after all.

The further into Hell they travelled, the sparser the lines seemed to become. They travelled up and down staircases for what seemed like hours until they were totally alone and began to feel very enclosed, and Dean started to suspect that the demon wasn't trying to lead them anywhere at all. He whispered his fears to Sam.

"He has to. I read every word of Crowley's contract, like you said. He's definitely taking us there."

"Can they break those contracts?"

"I don't think so. They'd have to go to a lot of trouble to find a loophole."

"What are you whispering about?" whispered Cas. Sam explained.

"Hey, B," said Dean. "We gonna be much longer? My feet are starting to hurt."

"Of course they are, you're in Hell," said Beelzebub. "Don't be such a little bitch."

They continued walking, taking turns left and right until they reached the top of a tall staircase. Below, the walls of the corridor seemed to be made entirely of stone. It appeared to stretch on for miles into the darkness, and from what Sam, Dean and Castiel could see, there were demons stationed every few feet. Beelzebub motioned for them to move down, and they did. Their guide remained at the top of the staircase. The demons guarding the corridor didn't move. They just watched.

"I can already tell this is going to be fun," murmured Dean, as they began their walk. The demons' stares were crawling up his spine.

"This isn't fun at all," muttered Castiel. "I feel tainted just being here – and I'm a _fallen_ angel."

Sam wasn't saying very much. "You can wait here if you feel like it, Sammy," said Dean. "You've come this far – we can go and get Adam out."

"No," said Sam, looking straight ahead. "I need to do this, Dean."

There was no talking Sam out of it, so the three of them talked no more as they headed towards the end of the corridor. What they saw when they got there was a large metal gate, with another two demons standing guard outside. They stood aside when the three of them approached, though – they'd obviously been informed of the situation.

"Thanks, guys," said Dean, flatly, fumbling for the lock on the gate, which was a literal metal lock down here. Sam smiled a tentative smile while Dean unlocked it, and Castiel's face remained impassive. Dean pushed the gate and it swung open. The three of them exchanged looks, and then they stepped inside.

/

Inside the Cage, Adam had resigned himself to teaching Michael what Twitter was.

"And people use this to gather... followers?" he said.

"Yes," said Adam. "That's what they call them."

Michael's brow furrowed. "Only God should have followers."

"Or me," said Lucifer, who was leaning against the bars on the other side of his cell, dangling his arm out and looking bored. "I have followers."

"Do you actually believe that to be a persuasive argument for your cause, or are you just really stupid?" asked Michael.

"I'm not saying it's an argument for anything, I'm just saying I have them. Do _you_ have followers, Michael?"

"Of course I don't," said Michael. "Only our Father—"

"And every blasted human on that Earth, or so it would appear."

"Guys, can you not do this again?" said Adam, who was beginning to become exasperated with their constant bickering. It wasn't even particularly angelic – they behaved like regular humans, and it was irritating more than anything else. "Look, Michael, I'll show you how to re-tweet something..."

"Then can you show me how to work Instagram?" whined Lucifer. "I'm _bored."_

"Yes, I'll show you how to work Instagram, Lucifer."

"What do you want to use Instagram for?" said Michael. "You've been looking at these same four walls for the last billion years."

"Michael, shut up."

"No, why don't you shut up? You're always begging for attention, and this should be _my_ time. In fact, this is _my_ vessel. You have no right to speak to him at all."

"This is _my_ Cage," said Lucifer, mocking Michael's tone. "Why don't _you_ get out?"

"Believe me, I would if it were possible," sighed Michael.

"I think we all would if it were possible," Adam muttered under his breath.

"The most inconveniencing thing about having _that_ for a brother," said Michael seriously to Adam, jerking his head in Lucifer's direction, "is that nothing I can post on your social networking sites can discredit him any more. He has already fallen as far is it is possible to fall."

"I can _hear_ you," said Lucifer. "I'm like six feet away."

"You said something about re-Twittering?"

"Uh, re-tweets, yeah..."

At that moment, the gate swung open.


	4. Chapter 4

They entered in defensive positions, brandishing whatever weapons they had, though they weren't sure they would be very effective. The scene was not how Dean had imagined; all in all, it looked like a typical old-fashioned dungeon, though there hardly seemed to be any torturing going on at all. In fact, Michael (he assumed it was Michael because it was in his father's body) and Adam were sitting against one wall and seemed both to be engaged with Adam's phone, and the physical form that Lucifer had occupied before Sam was lounging against the wall that joined at the corner. All three of them looked up when Sam, Dean and Castiel entered.

Sam swallowed, and tried not to look at Lucifer. He didn't want the memories to come back.

Adam's jaw dropped, and stood up suddenly, dropping his phone with a clatter and racing to them. "Sam! Dean! Did you get my messages?"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him behind his own back, prepared to defend him against any attack from either of the archangels, who seemed wary. "We sure did. Adam, we're so sorry we left you here so long. We had no way of knowing." His eyes weren't focused on Adam, though, but flicking from Michael to Lucifer, who had both stood up and were advancing.

"How long has it been?" said Adam. "Time moves differently here." He grabbed Sam's shirt suddenly. "I haven't slept for over three hundred years," he hissed.

"Uh..." Sam tensed, and tried not to look at Lucifer. "It's been nearly four years. Sorry."

"But the important thing is that you came back," said Lucifer. He spread his arms. "Sammy, I've missed you!" He moved as though to hug him, but Dean shoved him in the chest.

"You stay away from him, you son of a bitch. I know how this works, all right? You have no power here."

Lucifer looked at him with fury. "Don't lay your hands on me."

"Don't lay your hands on my brother."

"Oh, that's sweet," said Adam, with more than a hint of sarcasm. Dean gave him an apologetic look.

"Why are you here?" asked Michael. "You've brought Castiel with you. He's different now. Human... like you. Why?"

"Long story," said Dean, "but we're gonna have to grab Adam and run. Nice talkin' with you boys, though."

"Wait!" said Lucifer, raising a hand, and the door to the cage slammed shut once again, though the lock didn't click into place. Sam and Dean whirled round to look, and then both looked back to Lucifer with horror on their faces. "Oh, come on," said Lucifer. "You're not going to bring my Sam in here and wave him under my nose and then make off with him _and_ my only source of entertainment, are you?"

"Now, you listen here," said Dean, brandishing the demon-killing knife at him (not that it would have had any effect whatsoever). "You messed Sammy up so bad he couldn't function. You tortured his soul till there was nearly nothing left, so, no, you don't get to keep him. He's not _your_ Sam. In fact, you don't even get to say his name. You don't even get to look at him."

Lucifer regarded Dean with an expression of mild interest for a moment, then turned to Michael. He pointed at Dean. "See, that's what big brothers are supposed to do."

Michael sighed. "These boys are human. They are flawed. They do not understand our Father's plan – as you did. Of course one will defend the other. That does not mean that that is how it is supposed to be."

Lucifer's eyes practically bulged with fury. "I _know_ that they're flawed!_ That's what_ _I've been trying to tell you_ since the dawn of time!"

"But, despite this, we must love them anyway," Michael added, hastily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right." Lucifer cocked his head to the side. "Was that what you were trying to teach me when you were prodding Sam's soul with my pitchfork?"

"You what?" said Dean. Sam was squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to see or hear.

"Oh, yeah, I have a pitchfork," said Lucifer. "It's over there." He jerked a thumb over to the wall.

"No, no – _Michael_ was using it?"

Michael looked abashed. "I was angry, I do admit. I only ever intended to... demonstrate my annoyance."

"It was _you_? You skinned his soul alive!" yelled Dean. "And you," he rounded on Lucifer, "I can't even start to imagine what you did to him, you sick son of a bitch—"

"What did you call my father?"

"I don't think that's what that expression means," said Castiel. They all looked at him, startled. "Sorry," he said, averting his eyes.

"Look, if there was any torturing, it was him, not me," said Lucifer. "I only wanted to play." His eyes were wide and innocent. Dean scoffed. "Hey, Michael was the one holding the pitchfork. I like Sam. I never wanted to hurt him. You guys do know that, right? Why would I torture my own vessel? I mean, that would be pretty stupid, right?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked to Dean for confirmation.

"No, no, hang on – Sam was _hallucinating_. He kept seeing _you_."

"Probably the pitchfork residue."

"Pitchfork residue?"

"Pitchfork residue."

"OK, _stop_." Adam waved his hands. "Sam, Dean, it was nice of you to come. But I mean, seriously? I've been listening to these two fight for _centuries_ now. This... this really is not making things any better."

"You been poking him, too?" Dean asked Michael.

"No, he was _my_ vessel," said Michael. "I don't agree with Lucifer on most issues, but torturing him would be pretty stupid. I am sorry if I caused Sam any lasting damage."

Dean's jaw tightened and he looked about ready to sock Michael in the face.

"To be fair, we do like Adam," said Lucifer. "His little cell phone thingie is one of the finer things not occurring in nature. That and heavy metal."

"Heavy metal?" said Dean.

"Of course. Hands down, Maiden beats Metallica."

"What did he jus—What did you just say to me?" said Dean incredulously. "Are you being _serious_ right now?"

"Deadly. _Number of the Beast._ It's a classic."

"All right, buddy, let me tell you a thing or two—"

"Dean," said Sam. "You're arguing about heavy metal... with the Devil."

"He's right," shrugged Lucifer. "I invented it."

"That's not... actually... what I meant..." said Sam. He looked to Dean, trying to give him a cue to leave.

"Right!" said Dean, shaking his head. The atmosphere in the Cage was making his head fuzzy. He wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking, but somehow, he'd temporarily lost the drive to get out of there. "Let's go! Like I say, it's been nice talkin' to you, but we gotta get the hell outta Dodge." He gave them a false smile and turned to leave, but found their way blocked by Crowley.

"Hello again, boys."


End file.
